


Turtles

by mystery_deer



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I love kevin too much but Holt does too so, M/M, raymond holt - Freeform, too many metaphors and too many uses of the word too, veeeery mild, very mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-30 18:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17833925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_deer/pseuds/mystery_deer
Summary: I don't know what this is honestly besides pointless fluff





	Turtles

Kevin was viewed universally as a cold man. He was known as the professor to “watch out for” by students and colleagues alike. He didn’t mind this. He had good friends , good books, and Raymond. Of course Raymond.

Raymond was the fun one (off duty, obviously) the one everyone was drawn to. He had leadership ability that was nearly impossible to miss (though easily ignored with a bit of will and hatred) and a countenance that made you want to listen, to be part of his circle of light. Kevin adored these things and everything about him.

Kevin was a sharp man. Sharp eyes, sharp wit, sharp tongue. A spiteful stick figure with a love for everything forgotten. Their friends said they complimented each other, a perfect match like peanut butter and jelly, bacon and eggs and so on and so forth. Raymond would agree when the subject was brought up and quickly steer the conversation towards something else. Kevin pretended he loved being compared to a food product. Him and his husband, breakfast.

When Raymond went into hiding (“It wouldn’t be safe to tell you where, sir”) Kevin did nothing but cry for a week straight. He was useless and he felt worse because of his uselessness and cried harder, a pit of self pity. He made breakfast for two more times than any normal person should and broke down at the sight of the extra slice of toast. His brother called 34 times and his parents called 0. He missed Raymond so much it was an ache. He went to work as usual after his week long absence, created a wall around himself that he hid behind whenever a colleague would give him a sympathetic look until all he got were glares.  
“It’s like he doesn’t even care.”  
“I know, freaky.”  
“It’s me Kevin, please pick up the phone”  
“I heard about uncle Ray…”  
“Do-”  
“You-”  
“Need-”  
“Anything?”

He needed Raymond back.  
When Raymond returned, his face a roadmap of emotion, Kevin held him so tightly that he thought they would meld together. It felt like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs because Raymond wasn’t CLOSE enough.

He had spent the last few weeks before his husband’s return sporadically being assaulted by the intrusive two words “He’s dead” or “Raymond’s dead” and the fear that they wouldn’t tell him. That he’d just live the rest of his life wondering where his Raymond was. He sat on the kitchen floor, Cheddar whimpering and trying to lap at his tear stained cheeks, for 20 minutes one Sunday getting lost in this nightmare. And then Santiago called him and he answered it and it was the first time he’d answered the phone in awhile and she was shouting that they were safe and it was like reality came crashing down on him again and the pain of its impact was hideously beautiful.

One day Kevin had asked Raymond “Please, no more shop talk.”, explained that he couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t bear the weight of all the death and sorrow and cruelty the world had in it. He had expected for Raymond to break up with him, accuse him of not accepting his job (and his job was so much of him even then) and of being selfish. He’d had the argument before. Angry faces, pinkish-red cheeks and narrowed eyes. Dialogue carefully written for later use, he had nothing to give but dry comments and cold glances. He was a perfectly preserved ice cube. However Raymond surprised him by evaluating him for a moment before watching the legs in his wine glass thin and vanish.   
“Kevin. When a turtle is threatened it retreats into its shell, this isn’t because it’s a cowardly creature or a weak creature. It is simply using the only option afforded to it for its continued survival.” He met Kevin’s eyes meaningfully, his voice dripping with passion. “If if didn’t use its shell it would fall prey to its enemies and be torn to shreds, do you understand what I’m saying Kevin?”   
“You care entirely too much about turtles?”   
“I care…about turtles…immensely.” He drawled, leaning closer and closer to Kevin’s armchair and subsequently his face. They kissed and it was slow, meaningful.


End file.
